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Rememberances from Heather

My name is Heather Lerner.

I was an only child and I really wanted siblings. As a kid I would go shopping with my mom and try to convince other kids to come home with me–especially if they seemed to be arguing with their siblings or parents. I’d tell them we have a nice family, nobody argues or cries, but none of the kids ever did come home with me.

In high school I became close friends with Althea and little did I know that in doing so I would also become part of a family I’d always dreamed of. It wasn’t long after I met Althea that she invited me over to the Babler household and in rapid succession I gained two brothers, two sisters and another set of parents. Throughout high school and summers and holidays during my college years I spent many hours at the Babler house, playing and cuddling with the kids, Michael, Maretta and Joe and talking with Margot. We went canoeing and ice skating together and to American Player’s Theatre and I reveled in my newfound family. After my own parents went to sleep I’d spend the evening hours with the Bablers, enjoying peaches and cream, cookies, and hot cocoa made by Margot. Margot helped me through the difficult and formative years of late high school and college. A time when I was trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted in life. I was always amazed with how Margot knew when there was a universal right answer, like choosing the color eggshell or ecru rather than white for interior walls, and when there were many right answers but only one right answer for a given person. She also knew that the one right answer had to be discovered by the individual and was adept at helping me navigate my thoughts to find my own right answer.

I hope that some day I can be the kind of mother Margot was to me.

I just want to tell one story that Margot loved to tell and told often. I chose this story because it emphasizes how Margot’s warmth embraces so many people and I am not the only person she drew into her family effortlessly.

In college when I brought my then boyfriend, now husband, Michael, to Wisconsin for the first time, we spent his first day driving all over Wisconsin meeting family. He was really tolerant throughout the day, but it was a lot of people to meet and impress. After a whirlwind of a day it was late when we got back to my parents’ house and Michael was starting to take off his shoes and sigh in relief when I stopped him saying that we had one more place to go. But I promised it would be a good one. Michael looked at me and I could tell he was tired and thinking…”I thought I loved you….” So, at probably 10 p.m. we headed over to the Babler’s house for my nightly ritual of playing with the kids and talking to Margot about the great truths in life. Like, always add butter, sugar and/or cream to make a good recipe.

In 2001, Margot attended our engagement party where she met Michael’s grandpa Hahn and discovered that he and she are related. In her genealogical diggings she found that she and Michael are cousins, so in marrying Michael I actually married into the family that I had felt a part of for so long.

One night a year or two after meeting Margot, Michael and I were back in Wisconsin and had arrived at home after another whirlwind day of holiday festivities with family. As I started changing into my pajamas Michael was on the phone with Margot. After he hung up he looked at me climbing into bed and said, “well, I’m going over to Margot’s, you can go to bed or come with me.”

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Rememberances from Dad


Thoughts About Margot
September 7, 2007, Sharing Time, St. Peter’s Church,
Madison, Wisconsin
Kim M. Babler

We are in the right place today as we were last night at Bethel….. because Margot is a Child of God.

She comes from a religious, devoted, loving, caring, down-to-earth, family and extended family. Many of her values and ways of living life she learned from them and watching how they lived their lives. It made me feel good as I met them because they are much like my family and extended family. It was because of the way my Mother and Dad raised me and my family and extended family that Margot and I could have such a common bond.

[This paragraph not included in remarks because of length of time: Part of her family legacy included clergy. In our living room we have an example – a rocking chair that has a plaque with the following legend, “Presented to – Gotthold Heinrich August Loebor (1853-1944) – by his congregation – Saint Martini Lutheran Church, Milwaukee, Wisconsin” Her roots run deep.]

I also found myself learning from her family. Her Mother, Lorraine, affectionately known as Mum to our family, often explained to me how to listen to God. It has helped me and I use her advice in my life because she is right.

This is the right place to be today…..
It where our family sat over there, near of St. Peter, most Sunday’s unless out of town or at Bethel.
Sometimes there was a pew full of wiggly kids. (Margot had to remind me it would get better)
Sometimes they sat quietly eating Cheerios (when very young) or paging through their illustrated Bible.
We celebrated our Christmas’s here. We usually attended the Children’s Christmas Eve service at 4:30, often with a child serving in the role of Shepard, Wiseman, or Mary – or in a choir. We grew up here. We had family or friends join us. Margot and Joseph joined the Bell Choir, which became know to us as “Joe and the Ladies”, or Joe accompanied Bill with his oboe. We ask for guidance here, help and forgiveness. We prayed for our children and their future. 15 months ago Margot and I remarried here. And the last 27 months, we prayed for guidance here and were blessed with a basket of Miracles. We were heard. During those last two years Margot and I would discretely hold hands through most of each service.

Margot’s relationship with God is best expressed as Love. She knew God loved her and embraced Him. She fashion that Love into her life and into a world into which anyone is welcomed. Her family and school friends have always been in her life, then she included me as well as many college friends, then welcomed each of her children and many new life friends many who are here today.

Driving up to the Hospice Center last Wednesday after a short time away, it occurred to me we were actually living in Margot’s world – the world she created from love, friendship and the gentle ways of her person. That may seem strange to say. As her husband, I always thought we were on a mutual path between two people, making their way together. What I discovered was that some time long passed, it had really become the life she created – and – like the gravity of a planet-world carrying along its moon, I was fully living within her sphere. The same was true for many, many others to a similar or different degree. I smiled.

When you look at the photos on Althea and Bryan’s family website, it is no accident that there are lots of people in them. They are all people that traveled in Margot’s world and mine. They are people that first came to her from work, college days, from neighborhoods, through her children and school, from her interests, through friends, and people whose hearts she just captured. During the last two years, she also made friends with people who were also fighting cancer, sharing her good fortune in living and successfully battling back this disease for so long.

You know Margot is magical.

For anyone who has had children you will recognize this thought.
When you first think about having children, you image what they will be like, their personality, how they look, and maybe how they will approach life. When they actually are born you marvel at who they are. They are much more wonderful that you could have ever believed.

When I thought about what my life partner would be like, I had an image. Then came Margot. If God have given me a magic wand, I could not have begun to approach the wonderful woman that she is.

I remember the first time I met her. I was a college student bagging groceries in the Whitewater Piggly Wiggly. John was working the Young Republican table on the campus when she stopped to sign up. After talking to her for an hour he decided she would make a good candidate. (John has picked people over the years for county boards, municipal government, mayors, and the legislature, so his judgment is good.)

John thought I should meet her. I saw John breezing into the store with the good-looking college girl trailing him. She was statuesque, confident, and fresh. He introduced her. I can’t remember what we said, but I remember her firm handshake, delightful smile and elegance. It was brief. As I watched her leave, I said to myself, “she is great!” After a pause, I also said, “R- i – i – i – g-h-t!!! Just forget it.” But I couldn’t forget.

She did run for office, Student Publications Board, and defeated a campus radical that eventual burnt down “Old Main”. While we worked in common on campus politics, it was some time before we became romantic.

We fit together so well, I didn’t really try to analyze it in those days. Today, I know more about what attracted me to her.

What Margot wanted more than anything was to Love and be Loved. Her notes to me were always signed, “Love Me”.
Margot valued more than anything being a wife and mother. And she excelled at being a Mother. She wanted to find her family, have them grow into strong, independent, and be adults that would Love each other as well as be her life long friends.
She also wanted a wide circle of friend that would be as close as family who she could love and with whom she could share life’s adventures. She accomplished all of her life’s goals but one, to share more time with her friends and next generation. That’s what attracted me to her and made me want the same goals in her world.

35 years ago August 12th, Margot’s Dad – Joseph – led her down the aisle of a Beloit Church. He gave her hand to me for her new married life. On the last day of this summer, just one week ago, on a quiet star-studded night, I held her hand again and prayed as she gentling passed. Taking her other hand, invisibly, was her Dad now leading her into God’s world. She was never alone and she always with people who loved her. (Thanks Tom)

You know the best thing about today…. Margot’s world will go on. That’s is one of the things we are here resolved to do. While her help will be felt only in the softest ways, we will do what she wanted. Love each other, cherish our families, hold our friends close, lean on our God, never miss the beauty in nature or in what people create, look for goodness, purge anger and worry, and look for ways to heal. As she told me over three decades ago, she wants us to remember her and smile, to be happy for her (as soon as we can), and make her life’s work in love flourish. And then, when we have exhausted all of the life we can possibly live, she will take our hands on that journey and greet us with the biggest hug. Love you Margot. Love Me.

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Rememberances from Nancy McElmurry

Margot and I first met in January of 1979.  Here are some of my lifetime memories of her as I collected my thoughts the Saturday before she passed away.  I put them down as a letter to her.  Perhaps you will be able to pick up some of her wonderful qualities through my memories:

My dearest friend, Margot,

I remember.

When you and I first met. I gathered up the courage to cross the backyard, little girl in hand, to knock on the door of another young mother with a little girl who looked to be of close age to mine.
You met me at the door in your robe. That didn;t matter; you invited me in and we talked for over two hours while our little girls, just 4 days apart in age, played. After parting, both of us could hardly wait until we could get together again.

I remember watching for window shades to go up in the morning so that wed know whether or not everything was on target for the day. Wed get our housework done so we could take the girls for a walk oh say, around 11:00. To keep them moving we gave them the goal of going to touch the next fire hydrant.

I remember your taking Katie for a while when I was sick. Before you left you asked if there was anything I wanted. Yes, I
said, some peaches, which you cut up for me out of habit as we did for the little girls. We both laughed.

Thank you, my friend.

I remember two little girls on the playground in the backyard. Althea would climb and Katie would tell us about it. They would take turns on the slide, and once they wanted to trade jackets, which just confused us both a great deal.

I remember hanging diapers on the line at the same time.

I remember measuring cups holding raisins or cheese cubes, and the Nancy McElmurry approved method of making grilled cheese sandwiches.

I remember walks to Warner Park where the children could swing on the swings.

I remember two little girls receiving tricycles for their 2nd birthdays. Sometimes it was just more fun to ride each others. You gave a birthday party for three two-year olds — Althea,
Katie and Kermie. When addressing the card I couldn’t quite figure out how to spell Aufea — was that with an f or a ph? As thats how Katie said her name. Baby Tommy was just 3 weeks old at the time and I was still a bit out of it. We have laughed over that more than once.

I remember trips to the fabric store and little girls playing amongst the bolts of fabric. Shopping was so much easier together as the girls could entertain each other.

I remember shopping for saddle shoes for little chubby feet and red shoes for Althea.

I remember going to Bible studies together and leaving the children with Grandpa and Grandma McElmurry, where they played with teacups and monkeys. Your family has called Brian’s mother Grandma ever since then. (And for a long time that’s where Joe thought I lived.)

I remember little smocked dresses and piping around collars and discussing the best way to make a facing. We grew together in our sewing. Thank you, my friend.

I remember.

Little girls in large T-shirts decorating Christmas sugar cookies at my kitchen table; and I remember trips to the library and story books for the children.

I remember two little girls getting burns on their hands within just a couple of weeks of each other  — Katie on a hot stove and Althea on a hot iron. They learned the meaning of hot. We were saddened by the little bit of sweet baby innocence that was lost at that.

I remember feeding ducks at Tenney Park and the pastry cloth you gave me as you felt I needed that. I still use it today.

I remember a snowman you and Terry made in the backyard in late April of 1980. Just a week later we had 3 little kids in a
wading pool on a 90 degree day. That was the day my wedding ring fell in the crack by the front step.

I remember knowing we would move away. So you moved first. So hard even then to have to part.

I remember matching sundresses in different shades of blue gingham. And 3 children all in blue gingham at Vilas Park zoo.
(We had tuna for lunch that day.)

Thank you, my friend.

Once, you shared with me that all you wanted to do was get married, have children and raise them well.  One of your favorite poems was:

            Sweeping and dusting can wait ’til tomorrow,

            for children grow up much to our sorrow.

 So settle down cobwebs and dust go to sleep,

for I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

Your children (and mine)  have all grown up to be fine adults, but when did that happen?  Margot, you’ve done well.

I remember many visits to Madison and spending time with you. We decorated Easter eggs before Easter, spent several
Fridays after Thanksgiving together, and worked jigsaw puzzles the day after Christmas. I remember many visits in your car as we drove to various places in Madison for various reasons — mostly as you provided mothers taxi service for
your children.  We shared philosophies on raising children, education, political situations, and family life among other
things.

I remember coming over to your house and just hanging out together — macaroni and cheese or tuna sandwiches come to mind.

I remember many trips to Terry’s house and the pool with all the kids. What a great winter activity that made.

I remember your bringing Althea and Michael up to our home in the Twin Cities when Michael was just a baby. I believe that
is when jet canaries were invented.
(Think yellow kleenex on a tooth pick run through the air by 4-year old girls.)

I remember countless trips to yarn stores — sometimes we just looked and sometimes we bought. Thank you, my friend, for always taking an interest in my knitting and for getting it.

I remember specifically our field trip to Mt. Horeb on Valentines Day where we visited the woolen mill. We watched the spinning and plying machines at work, and I had a heyday in their shop. Then on into Mt. Horeb where we found a charming little café for lunch where they served us tea in individual pots sitting atop the teacups. We poked through the shops in town, including a cross stitch shop, on that beautiful warm Valentine’s Day. It was a “just a sweater” day. Then it was on to Verona where we visited — guess what — another yarn shop. What a truly fine day that was. Thank you my friend.

“Chance made us neighbors, hearts made us friends.” Your cross-stitched sampler will forever hang in my kitchen. Thank you, my dear friend.
I remember going out to lunch many times to celebrate one or the other of our birthdays.
I remember when you and Maretta visited my in the hospital after my back surgery. You brought the softest, cuddliest white bear you could fine. Then, when I talked with you just a couple weeks later, you first wanted to know how I was doing. It was only after that that you shared with me that just the weekend before you had been diagnosed with pancreatic change. We cried together. And for several days following I hugged that soft, white bear and wept and prayed for you as I healed.
I remember being so happy to see you at the end of the summer when you and Althea and baby Andrew brought Maretta up to school. You were on radiation and constant chemo, but seeing you there was a blessing I hadn’t expect at the beginning of the summer.
Then just a few weeks later, I was able to travel to Madison. Even though your treatment was taking quite a toll on you, you wanted to visit the yarn shop. What a pair we made as neither of us could walk all that well. Just a few days later you back in the hospital.
I remember celebrating New Year’s Eve with you at Terry’s condo. You put on a beautiful spread, you showed me the baby blanket you were making (it was still a secret that it was for Heather), and we watched the fireworks. Yet another fun time together. Thank you, my friend.
The next time we saw each other was when I visited you in the hospital in Rochester following your surgery. We visited and knit. Maretta and I left you to rest while we had lunch, and — guess what — visited a yarn shop, as Maretta had been bitten with the knitting bug. I remember purple tulips in your window against a backdrop of lightly falling snow. And I remember Maretta sitting on the floor tending your large, green plant when a frog jumped out on her. Oh my!
Carpe Diem!  We all rejoiced that the treatment and surgery had extended your life that Memorial Day weekend a year after your diagnosis.
I remember numerous phone calls just to keep in touch. Thank you, my dear friend, for always caring.
And just last Thanksgiving I remember spending yet another Friday after together. Maretta joined us as we went to the U and saw the knitting exhibit honoring Elizabeth Zimmermann. What a fun thing to share together. I wish I still had time to make that sweater for you.
Most recently I realized how sick you were, and I had to come swiftly to see you. This time I cut up your peaches and brought you a cuddly lamby — I know how special lambies are to you. We talked knitting once again, and enjoyed sharing about our daughters’ upcoming weddings and their dresses. We laughed some, we cried some, we held hands and hugged and looked forward to visits down the road, which both of us knew would never come to be. Thank you, my dear friend. Somehow, we had come full circle.
I will see you again, dear friend. And I haven’t forgotten that special request for Andrew’s 3rd birthday that made us both cry.
And as you said as we last parted, “Don’t leave.” So I say to you, friend, don’t leave. Don’t leave.
“I’ll love you forever; I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, your friend I will be.”
Thanks, dear friend, for a lifetime of wonderful memories. I will never stop being your friend.
Love,
Nancy
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Rememberances from Paula Kopp

My name is Paula Kopp and Margot and I were cousins.  When I think through my memories of Margot, the first thing that comes to mind is how important family
was to her.  No one is more supportive of the role of mother than Margot.

When we moved to Madison six years ago, Margot was so welcoming and so excited to finally have a cousin who lived in Madison.  Our move wasn’t easy for me, and even more difficult for our children.  Margot was such a great support to me.  In her usual style, Margot was full of advice.  But advice Margot-style was
never a lecture.  She had a way of relaying a similar situation and how she handled it but always reminded me how I should do what was best for our family.
As I have been able to see more clearly in the past two years, Margot had such a gift as a mother in figuring out what each of you needed as an individual.  She knew that sometimes that is very different that what one of your siblings may need.

When Margot learned about her pancreatic cancer, she really didn’t need to change her priorities.  Margot was a woman of faith who knew what was important, and her family always came first.  Because of my oncology nursing background, Margot and I had many discussions about the battle she was facing.  I was privileged to be included with your family in many of the consults with the physicians, including a trip to Mayo for her surgery.  We were usually a large group crammed into a small exam room.
The number in the group attending doctors appointments varied based on everyone’s needs—it was important to Margot that everyone had the opportunity to hear the information that they were ready to hear; to not hear the information first hand if they weren’t ready for that; and to miss appointments if they had other things to attend to.
At the end of an appointment, Margot would always look around the room and make sure that everyone had a chance to ask their questions and have their concerns heard before she would let the doctor leave.  Margot handled her disease the same way she handled her life.  She showed her grace, patience and gentle determination.   While I knew a lot about your family through Margot, I am grateful for the opportunity to get to know you as individuals these past two years.  I watched you work together as an incredible unit, especially as we took over the lounge at Mayo during Margot’s surgery.
You laughed, you knitted, you played games and you talked about how you felt.  I know you will be able to continue to do all those things together as Margot’s spirit lives through you.

I would like to finish by sharing something that has been a comfort to me for the last 20 years.  Our cousin, Tom Bergmann, died from leukemia.  Today would have
been his 47th birthday.  The following is a passage from the sermon by Pastor Koeppen at Tom’s funeral that made everything make sense for me.  I have changed it for the situation we are faced with today.

“Cancer didn’t conquer Margot.  Margot conquered cancer.  Death, the greater end of cancer, was conquered by Christ.  In Christ, Margot has conquered the greater and the lesser.  Thanks be to God.  Margot has cancer no more and cannot ever get it again.”

Thank you for including me in your extended family.
I have learned so much in watching all of you together.

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Thursday night event

Invitation to a Dessert Reception

Following the prayer service at Bethel and dinner (on your own), Margot’s family invites you to join us for dessert and a continuation of the celebration of her life.

Downtown Madison has a wonderful variety of restaurants for you to sample.  Afterwards, some of Margot’s favorite  desserts will be available at Terry Haller’s residence, 100 Wisconsin Avenue, #801.

We hope this reception will provide a nice opportunity to strengthen and fortify the web of community that Margot wove around us.

Questions?
Call Althea at 239-5453.

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Photo gallery of Mom is online

Sept. 4: 12 am. I’ve had so many thoughts I’ve been wanting to write about these last few days, but we have been busy, busy, busy getting things ready for the events later this week.  Maretta, Dad, and I have gone through the house and pulled together several boxes of things to display at the visitations on Thursday and Friday.  And I’ve spent hours and hours going through photo albums and boxes of photos to dig out pictures of Mom.  Heather came to stay with us the other day, and with her help, we’ve scanned or acquired almost 700 pictures of Mom from over the years.
100 of my favorites (so far…I hope more keep coming in from people) are in the gallery.

I’ve been so surrounded by things pertaining to Mom and things that embody her spirit these last days, that I know logically that she is gone, but she really doesn’t feel gone.  In fact, she feels very present.  I’ve been trying to pull up feelings of sadness today, but either I’m too focused to be sad today or I’m just feeling to grateful for the rich legacy that she’s left us to find room for mourning.

I found myself walking along today, repeating as my feet hit the ground, “Mom is dead, Mom is dead, Mom is dead.”  And now that I’ve written that down, it looks horrible, but when I was thinking it, I really felt like I was just reminding myself so I didn’t forget again and again.  I think that between the frantic pace of our preparations, the incredible outpouring of love and support I’m getting from friends near and far, and the wonderful feelings of peace that I get from looking through things from the past have given me a respite today.
Who knows how tomorrow will go, but I’ll take a bit of a peaceful day!

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Photo slide show of Mom

Sept. 1: 9:45 pm.  My cousin Scott dropped off a CD at my house this afternoon.  I popped it in my computer this evening, and I was really touched by the video of pictures of Mom that he compiled into a video.  Thank you so much, Scott.
WARNING: Before viewing, you may want to make sure you are in a situation where you can comfortably sob and have several Kleenexes nearby.
View the video here.

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The little things and the big things

Sept. 1: 9:30 pm.  Today has been such a hard day.  After the previously mentioned dreadful decisions we had to make about Mom’s funeral, Maretta had the brilliant suggestion that she and I go out for spa treatments.  So I booked Maretta for a massage, and I got a spa pedicure, and we recuperated through pampering.
I feel, though, like life is now full of little land mines, and until I really absorb and adjust to this new reality-without-Mom, I am going to keep stepping on these land mines and getting hurt.  The last few weeks, I think I was mostly concerned about the big things we would miss without Mom here.  I’ve been worried about her not being there for weddings and graduations and to see future grandchildren and all the celebrations and times of togetherness that we’ll miss and need her.  I’ve spent a lot of time mourning those big things from many people’s perspective.  But I think that at least this week, it’s the little things that are hurting.

Last night at the get-together at Terry’s, Maretta and I talked about how we were both waiting for Mom to come in.  I actually thought to myself, “I wonder where Mom is.”  Clearly, I haven’t fully come to grips with the situation at hand.  Tonight while Andrew was taking his bath, he was being overly rambunctious in the tub.  I was trying not to laugh at his antics, and I mentally filed away the situation as a story to tell Mom next time she asked me if Andrew was still cute.  I just simply cannot believe that she’s not going to call and ask me how my day was or that I’m not going to get to show her the color I painted my toes today.

It’s too much.  She’s too much a part of my life, a part of the mirror I use to see myself, to be gone.

So I think I will sit here for a few moments in the throes of unhappiness and wait for a joke or a wave of energy to break the mood and set me back on the new track that I’m learning to travel.  It’s just pretty easy to get derailed these days.
~Althea

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Funeral and visitation details

Sept. 1: The details of the funeral and visitation are as follows:
A visitation will take place on Thursday, September 6, 2007 at Bethel Lutheran Church, 312 Wisconsin Ave. from 4:30 – 6:00 p.m. with a prayer service at 6:00 p.m. Mom has been a long-time member of Bethel.  It’s the beautiful church where I was married.

Mom’s funeral will take place on Friday, September 7, 2007 at St. Peter’s Catholic Church, 5001 N. Sherman Ave., at 10:00 a.m.  A time for visiting with family will take place prior to the funeral from 9-10 am. Although she was not Catholic, Mom has attended mass at St. Peter’s with Dad weekly for decades.  Father Roger will be officiating the celebration, and there will be a time to share memories about Mom during the service.

Details about burial location and and luncheon plans are still being determined.  We’re also hoping to create an opportunity for people to get together on Thursday evening after the visitation/prayer service.  Stay tuned for details.

We’ve just completed what I can only summarize as a dreadful meeting with the funeral home to determine all the arrangements for Mom’s funeral and visitation.  Ryan Funeral Homes was a great help, and the conversations we had were all collaborative and productive, but I think all of us felt slightly destroyed inside by having to make these kinds of decisions about our mommy.